6

"Slow down. Not everyone here is a vampire," I called as Father Gallagher strode down the darkened hallway.

His long legs ate up the space at double the length mine did, but add to that his preternatural speed, and he was halfway down the hall while I trailed behind, forgotten.

"Walk faster, and we won't have a problem."

God, he was surly. And he smelled divine. Why did a priest need to smell so good?

We left the main hall and headed down a set of stairs that led into the bowels of the building. The air shifted to damp and heavy, the scent of earth and age filling my nose. We reached a doorway marked with his name, simple and unassuming, befitting a man of the cloth.

"Come in and kneel at the altar, Miss Fallon."

"Excuse me?"Kneel? He expected me to kneel?

"You heard me. Inside, on your knees. We have work to do."

"Listen, you're hot and all, but I'm not getting on my knees for you. I hardly know you."

And he was hot. God, was he ever. Tall and broad, but not bulky with exaggerated muscle. His understated black shirt and pants molded to his body just enough that I could easily watch the play of hisassetsas he walked in front of me. I’d never understood the desire to bounce a quarter off a man’s ass, but I’ll admit, he made me curious.

Suddenly embarrassed by the direction my thoughts had taken regarding a man who’d married the Lord, I cleared my throat and forced myself to lift my gaze.

Father Gallagher was staring at me. His nostrils flared angrily, and his intense, sapphire eyes bore deep into mine. “Well?” he demanded.

I blinked, having completely lost the thread of our conversation. He must have kept going while I’d been lost to my musings. What had we been talking about? Oh, right. He wanted to get me on my knees. Frankly, in a different situation, I might have considered it. All that smoldering intensity wrapped up in a delicious, completely forbidden package? That’s an altar I could worship at.

“I was just wondering where your collar was,” I lied, making my feet resume their hurried steps as I moved into what I’d assumed was his office, but turned out to be a little chapel.

“Only priests wear collars.”

My steps faltered again. “But I thought... he called you Priest?”

“That was a long time ago.”

I gestured to the flickering candles and the not-insubstantial crucifix hanging on the wall. “So what’s all this, then? Sort of a weird decorating choice for a vampire, don’t you think?”

His jaw tensed, and I could tell the time for questions had passed. Not that I thought it had ever actually started.

“I gave you an order, Miss Fallon. Obey it.”

“I’m not in the habit of taking orders from bloodsucking leeches.”

Oops. Wrong thing to say.

His eyes flashed dangerously. “And I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” He grabbed me by the back of the neck and forced me to the cold tile. “On. Your. Knees.”

My body obeyed without question, folding easily under the pressure of his vise-like grip. I’m not sure what it said about me that I pressed my thighs a little tighter together, his rough manhandling and the dangerous cast of his voice setting off a low throb in my core.

He released me at once, moving to stand just off to the left. “Your problem, Miss Fallon, is that you are undisciplined.”

“You could tell all that after just a few minutes in my presence, huh?”

His eyes tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“I am going to teach you mastery over yourself. Once you learn how to quiet your mind and focus, it should be no problem for you to summon your wolf.”

“You think meditation is the answer to the last twenty-three years of my life? Just like that?” I laughed, a low scathing rumble that bounced around the room. “Let me save you a lot of time and frustration, preacher. Been there. Done that.” I shifted on my knees, intending to rise, but he was there, his hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.

“I never said it would be easy, Miss Fallon. Clearly you lack the mental fortitude required for such introspection. But lucky for you, I am well-versed in all matters of self-control and self-discipline. I have no doubt we will persevere with time and intense study. Your grandfather has paid handsomely to ensure it.”

His insults were delivered so silkily I could almost mistake them for casual conversation. Especially since my mind wanted to focus on the idea of what discipline at Father Gallagher’s hand might look like. But the mention of my grandfather sent those thoughts scattering.

There it was again. The reminder of why I was here. Of what a consummate failure I was.

This guy—this priest—thought he could succeed where literally everyone else had failed? Fine. Let him try. What’s the worst that could happen? Eventually he’d admit defeat, and I’d just be right back where I started. But, if by some miracle he was right and there was some little trick he could teach me, I’d finally get the one thing I’d been fiercely wishing for since I was old enough to understand what wishes were.

My wolf. My birthright.

I shifted uncomfortably. Kneeling was hardly the most demanding thing I’ve had to do, but the tile was unyielding beneath my kneecaps, and there was already a little ache building at the base of my spine.

“A little pain is good for the body. It keeps the mind sharp.”

I raised a brow. “If you think I’m going to let you start beating me—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Why did I get the feeling he’d omitted the wordyet? And why did my protestation sound like such a lie?

“So what am I supposed to do now?”

“Now you will close your eyes and—”

“Pray?” I quipped. “Sorry, Father. I don’t think the big guy is going to listen to a heathen like me.”

“Miss Fallon, you are going to shut your mouth and do as you're told. Do I make myself clear? If that proves to be challenging for you, I will have no problem removing the temptation.”

“How? You going to gag me, Father? I didn’t realize priests were so kinky—”

“Silence!” he snarled, his movements so fast I didn’t realize he’d put his hand over my mouth until the delicious scent of him wafted up my nose.

If I’d thought the tile was unforgiving, it had nothing on the steel of Father Gallagher’s hand fused over my mouth. I couldn’t open it if I wanted to. And I did. But whether to bite him or lick him, I wasn’t sure. Both ideas were equally tempting.

He tilted my chin back so I was looking up at him. The dominance of his position, combined with the barely restrained power of his grip and the vulnerable bearing of my throat, had unease and something else skittering through my veins. Something I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

“You will not speak until I tell you to. Blink if you understand.”

“You think meditation is the answer to the last twenty-three years of my life? Just like that?” I laughed, a low scathing rumble that bounced around the room. “Let me save you a lot of time and frustration, preacher. Been there. Done that.” I shifted on my knees, intending to rise, but he was there, his hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.

“I never said it would be easy, Miss Fallon. Clearly you lack the mental fortitude required for such introspection. But lucky for you, I am well-versed in all matters of self-control and self-discipline. I have no doubt we will persevere with time and intense study. Your grandfather has paid handsomely to ensure it.”

His insults were delivered so silkily I could almost mistake them for casual conversation. Especially since my mind wanted to focus on the idea of what discipline at Father Gallagher’s hand might look like. But the mention of my grandfather sent those thoughts scattering.

There it was again. The reminder of why I was here. Of what a consummate failure I was.

This guy—this priest—thought he could succeed where literally everyone else had failed? Fine. Let him try. What’s the worst that could happen? Eventually he’d admit defeat, and I’d just be right back where I started. But, if by some miracle he was right and there was some little trick he could teach me, I’d finally get the one thing I’d been fiercely wishing for since I was old enough to understand what wishes were.

My wolf. My birthright.

I shifted uncomfortably. Kneeling was hardly the most demanding thing I’ve had to do, but the tile was unyielding beneath my kneecaps, and there was already a little ache building at the base of my spine.

“A little pain is good for the body. It keeps the mind sharp.”

I raised a brow. “If you think I’m going to let you start beating me—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Why did I get the feeling he’d omitted the wordyet? And why did my protestation sound like such a lie?

“So what am I supposed to do now?”

“Now you will close your eyes and—”

“Pray?” I quipped. “Sorry, Father. I don’t think the big guy is going to listen to a heathen like me.”

“Miss Fallon, you are going to shut your mouth and do as you're told. Do I make myself clear? If that proves to be challenging for you, I will have no problem removing the temptation.”

“How? You going to gag me, Father? I didn’t realize priests were so kinky—”

“Silence!” he snarled, his movements so fast I didn’t realize he’d put his hand over my mouth until the delicious scent of him wafted up my nose.

If I’d thought the tile was unforgiving, it had nothing on the steel of Father Gallagher’s hand fused over my mouth. I couldn’t open it if I wanted to. And I did. But whether to bite him or lick him, I wasn’t sure. Both ideas were equally tempting.

He tilted my chin back so I was looking up at him. The dominance of his position, combined with the barely restrained power of his grip and the vulnerable bearing of my throat, had unease and something else skittering through my veins. Something I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

“You will not speak until I tell you to. Blink if you understand.”

Once again, I obeyed, my body hardwired to follow his commands when delivered in that deep, resonant tone.

“Good, Miss Fallon. Now, when I let you go, you’re going to close your eyes and empty your mind. Errant thoughts will try to distract you. You will silence them. You will embrace the discomfort of your body and dismiss it. For the next ninety minutes, you will focus only on the sound of your breathing.”

I wanted to snort. My mind was not a quiet place. I wouldn’t last nine minutes, let alone ninety. But he wouldn’t let me up until I at least pretended to try. So I blinked.

“It’s good to see that you’re a fast learner, Miss Fallon. That bodes well.”

He released me. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination when I felt his hand slide down the front of my throat and hesitate a little longer than necessary at my collarbone before he returned to his position in front of me.

“Now, close your eyes...” he said, his voice still holding the edge of command, but lower and more soothing this time, “and breathe.”

“I can’t,”I whispered.

“You can and you will.”

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, between my shoulder blades, and slid all the way down until it reached my bra. Could he tell? Did he know I was about to break? This was the third night in a row I’d been on my knees,meditating.

Something about Father Gallagher being present had me hyperaware of his focus on me, even if my eyes were closed. I knew he was watching. Judging.

Breaths came in short gasps as the intensity of my focus left me trembling. I fought the urge to sob from the effort of holding this position. Pain spiked up from my knees, needles stabbing me over and over with every slight twitch of my muscles. Then his scent overwhelmed me as his palm rested on the crown of my head. “Quiet your mind,a stor.You are tense and fighting your own thoughts.”

On instinct, I opened my eyes and locked gazes with deep sapphire blue pools. He was close. So close I could have kissed him if I’d wanted to. “How do you know what I’m doing? You’re not in here with me.”

A rumble rolled through the room, coming from his throat, but he didn’t look away. “Fall into my gaze and let me in.”

“No.”

“You’ll do as I say, Miss Fallon. If you know what’s good for you.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“You’re reckless. A petulant child, just like your grandfather said you’d be.”

Anger burst through me, a fireball escaping from the depths of my chest. “Fucking right. Petulant. A disappointment. A waste of space. You name it, he’s hurled it at me.”

My gaze flicked away from his because I couldn’t take another second being a prisoner of his focus. But he gripped my face with both large palms and forced my attention back to him.

“Let go of me, Father.”

“Caleb,” he said, his voice rough. Those dark brows were furrowed, pulled together in a pained expression as confusion and conflict warred for control of his face. “Call me Caleb when my hands are on you.”

I swallowed hard, unsure of what exactly was happening here. “Caleb. Let me go.”

He did, his hands falling away as though I’d burned him. “Now. Close your eyes and take hold of all of that anger. Harness it. Open yourself.”

I did. I took a long, slow breath, and even though he wasn’t touching me anymore, my skin burned from where his fingers had pressed against my cheeks. In all the time we’d been working on this, he had resisted touching me, save for that first time when he’d forced me to the ground and held his hand over my mouth. Until tonight. The darkness that greeted me when my eyes were shut faded away and gradually lightened to a soft blue before fading further until it turned a brilliant white. I gasped.

“What are you doing to me, Caleb?”

He had to clear his throat before he answered. “It’s not me, Miss Fallon. This is you.”

“Can you see it?”

“No.”

The light behind my eyes flashed so bright I was afraid I’d go blind if I didn’t look away, but I couldn’t. There was no way to escape what was in my own mind. I whimpered and fell forward, Caleb catching me before I hit the hard stone floor.

Resting my forehead on his chest, I forced myself to control my breathing and stop the tremors racking my body before I finally backed away. “What did you do to me?”